Seraphim Corp.
♡
Once upon a time, Nora Campbell, fed up with cramped studio living and cup ramen, sought employment at Heaven. Offering livable wages, a benefits package to die for, and, if the ads could be believed, in desperate need of help, it was an escape she'd been seeking.
But as the shuttle ambled up the cobblestone road cutting a direct path through Seraphim's main campus, Nora's heart shriveled. Here she was, a nobody, encroaching on corporate elitism at its peak. In wrinkled trousers and a nauseating pink blouse no less. Enough ruffles hanging around her neck to choke a car-full of circus clowns.
She wasn't kidding anyone. Nora was an ugly stain on a masterpiece. Sin personified, disturbing the tranquility of the garden. An outsider who'd gotten close enough to press her nose into the glass and glimpse unbridled power. Her driver might as well pull over, call for the guards, and have her escorted off the property.
She didn't belong here, at the city's heart where everything sparkled with newness and light. She deserved the city's intestines, where everything was bloody and grim and people struggled to get anywhere. Where the air hung thick and rank, where buildings of steel, stone and concrete stood in defiance of the sun. Where everything was a smooth, unfeeling gray. Where Nora could step into the shadows and move around unseen.
Why, again, had she agreed to this interview?
Outside the shuttle's windows, magnolia blossoms twirled to the ground. Nora clenched the strap of her briefcase between her fingers; the breeze floating the scents of late summer - dew and sunshine - to her nose.
She knew full well the reason she was here. Sitting with her thighs stuck to the pimpled vinyl seat, breath funky, sweat encroaching on her lace front. Her father. Alester Campbell the third. Southern gentleman, Harvard alum, constant Nora critic. As of two weeks ago, he'd cashed in a few favors he'd had rotting away in his Armani two-piece to land her this interview.
And then guilted her into going. It's better than where you're at now. Do you really want to be on the lowest wrung of the corporate ladder? Do better, Nora. You're better than this.
Sighing, she visualized the summer air swirling around inside her body, filling up her lungs, flooding her muscles, giving life to her blood. She imagined a million tiny seeds buried in her bones only to see them transform into flowers and vines. And then the human version of herself disappeared until all that was left behind became a garden, freed of the pressure to be a father's idea of what she should be.
The sun shone freely overhead, casting a mean glint, as the shuttle moved beyond the treeline. An expanse of lawn stretched out before her, so green Nora's mother would have demanded it princess cut and shoved on her ring finger. Trimmed shrubs lined the sides of the road as it curved toward the base of an enormous skyscraper.
Seraphim Tower rose into the clouds, white exterior glittering like a thousand diamonds. News reporters and gossip rags nicknamed it the Gateway to Heaven. Seeing it up close, Nora understood why.
The shuttle crawled to a stop before a marble staircase that crested toward a pair of gilded archways. Above the doors in modern script, glowing white, a sign read, Seraphim. Making Heaven on Earth one step at a time.
Nora inhaled as her driver pulled back on the latch with scarred, fat fingers, releasing the shuttle doors. He gave her a quick glance through his overhead mirror, eyes the color of dirt after a downpour. "Your stop, hun."
Closing her window, Nora unstuck from her seat, thanked the driver and stepped off the shuttle. Hollow clicks announced her arrival as her heels made contact with the sidewalk. Cooes and chatters rained down from overhead - pigeons and sprites going at it again.
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